Tag Archives: mend and make do

I started the day with a run, and on the way home picked up a plastic bag. A charity has delivered them all round the neighbourhood, requesting they be filled with second hand clothing. Many have made their way onto the street empty, however–so I stopped this one going down a drain and half filled it with rubbish in only a few blocks. I know litter picking isn’t romantic, but I hate all the rubbish and it does give me satisfaction to remove some of it. A certain would-be politician who is spending some of his many millions trying to buy his way into office is currently contributing more handbills than he should to the litter stream (we are a week out from a federal election). But also lots of straws, single use cups and lids, free newspapers in their horrible plastic bags, and bottle caps.

Some became understorey in an area where almost all the Department of Public Transport and Infrastructure plantings died. Others I planted in an area where council has installed a watering system, and recent works on the gas main in our street resulted in loss of more plants…

I picked up some more rubbish! And then home again. On my way home a chap asked me whether I was in training for some kind of event. What kind of event???!! I couldn’t help wondering, but I think he was just nonplussed by my hauling a wheelbarrow around the place, so I didn’t ask.

I just want to brag for a moment. My beloved discovered during the first rains that the transparent panel in our garden shed roof is now full of holes. I suspect the fact it is on the possum super highway through our backyard at night has hastened the holes. Well. I replaced it all by myself (with a drill bit from a friend and some help from someone with a bigger car getting the new panel home). So here you have the view of the broken panel from the ladder; the view of my neighbour’s bamboo patch from inside the shed with the panel removed; and the ladder view of the finished job. Far from perfect but perfectly functional. I feel proud! I even texted my Dad to tell him since he has taught me a lot and surely was responsible for the gift of that power drill in the first image in the 1990s, bless him.

There came a time recently when some pretty major mending came along. First this shirt was found in a bag in the shed (where to judge by the company it was keeping, it was intended, for a time, to be a rag) and it came back into the house as a much beloved shirt of my beloved, which it certainly had been for many years prior to its trip to the shed and long stay there. Could I mend it, because the holes were substantial?

Yes, I could–in this case by machine stitching a thin piece of reinforcing fabric on the inside, in several places. With the end result on the right, above.

Then, this pair of linen trousers. I got a new job a while back, and it demanded some smarter clothes (it’s one thing to be judged less than stylish personally, but it’s another to let the team down). The Salvation Army and other op shops, plus some home made tops got me through winter, but summer was a whole other issue. So these pants (and a blue shirt to go with them) were a rare new purchase, and this is how they are faring after one and a bit summers. Not as well as you’d hope given price tag and materials. Not as well as the linen pants I made myself (though they have their faults)–just saying.

I decided on another machine mend–in which there is a lot of stitching that will show, so choice of thread matters more than it would in a seam. Sometimes when it comes right down to it, you have a preconception about the colour of the garment that you need to discard to do a good mend that won’t yell out. Sometimes using two different colours is the right thing to do. Choice made with thread laid across the fabric on the right side, I chose some thin fabric that will reinforce but not make the patch rigid (once stitched–the stitching adds some bulk).

And, finished. The texture and colour are slightly changed, but I’ve asked my beloved if she can tell me where my pants are mended and she can’t (when I have them on). Because the truth of the matter is, my friends, that the reason my pants wear out in this spot is because friction. And the reason there is friction is because two surfaces are in contact. And because they are in contact with one another–they don’t show a whole lot. These pants are no longer for best, sure. They are still comfortable and shapely though, and will last a bit longer. The big job is done with and the clothes I bought for it and didn’t care to keep have returned to the op shop for some other woman trying to pass herself off as a professional.

Finally, a drum case. Being a drummer involves hefting a lot of kit, and doing it regularly, and doing it ingeniously. In the case of the wonderful drummer in our band, I’d noticed the snare drum case was looking pretty sad. So I offered to mend it. I threaded up a leather needle, the most sturdy needle I can use on my machine. First I trimmed off the frayed sections. Then unpicked the binding. Then realised I could not insert three layers (especially tatty layers) into it neatly, especially because the edge had shortened through fraying and disintegration. I found some black seam binding tape in the stash (thanks Joyce!) and neatened up the edge, then finally reinserted it with considerable difficulty, into the binding.

It’s far from perfect. But it is much better. If this fails I told my friend the awesome drummer I’d be prepared to try again. But for local readers it has occurred to me that the industrial strength option would be The Luggage Place, 108 Gilbert St, Adelaide. I’ve had various repairs done to suitcases there and they do a good job. They are not paying me–there are just so few places left where you could get something like this repaired, every one is worth sharing. In one instance, I’d given up completely and bought a new suitcase, and then realised I could take it to The Luggage Place. They sewed the carry handle back on a fair sized suitcase and in fact that case has kicked on for some years since then. They also replace wheels and suitcase innards!

And there you have the above and beyond edition. As all manner of lovely books on mending come out, Tom of Holland’s Visible Mending programme becomes a hashhtag, and the beautiful, ingenious work of India Flint in converting one garment/s to another/s and such spread more widely, mending is having a resurgence. It’s a wonderful thing! And with the encouragement and occasional shock response to my mending of you all, dear readers–I’ve continued to be a prosaic and practical mender in the main. But I am now more able and more likely to look for a lovely way to mend garments and items that are not quite so thoroughly damaged as these!

Just a little public service announcement. Age no barrier. Striking school students are calling out to everyone to join them. In Australia, University students are coming. Grey Power for Climate Action are coming. Parents are coming. Our Climate Choir and local Extinction Rebellion will be there, honouring the leadership of the student strikers and standing behind and beside them. I will certainly be there. So join us! Wherever you are!

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Just as I felt the mending was done, I found two–two! Holes had worn through in my pyjamas. The fabric is so thin. I decided a big patch and a lot of machine stitching was the solution this time. Here it is on the inside (below). The patch was just a scrap left over from cutting something else out and I decided it was fine as it was. Making it a rectangle didn’t seem likely to improve it.

Then I realised how many patches there already were. At least three–with some pictures from the inside and some from the outside below. Some of these look just like scribbling to me.

And that same day, I mended the stiffening rectangle at the bottom of a shopping bag… and my beloved handed over some ripped jeans for repair!

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Recently the pile of mending on my mind reached a point where it became the weekend’s project. But–I realised that there was only one thing I was mending for the first time. I’ve reached the mending on mending stage. This knitting bag has been waiting for a few more stitches into the base–the fabric the base is made from has just worn through over time. But I don’t want to let the bag go. It was made by one dear friend and embroidered by another and it was a birthday gift from years back. It’s a treasure. This time I fully embraced the idea of stitching the outer and lining together because I think this bag is at a stage in life where more mending is inevitable and not too far away.

Then there was the raincoat. This op-shop find has had years of living on my office door for emergency wear because it is shower proof and has a zip-out wool lining. It’s a high quality garment! If I am caught by wind or rain on my way home, I can grab it and run for the bus. It had this sophisticated arrangement for hanging on a hook (and I do hang it on a hook) and it has been broken for quite a while.

This week I was caught by sudden wind and rain and wore it home. The hanging arrangement is now stitched back with waxed linen thread.

And I did some mends to the wool lining. Yes, visible mending it is. Check out the fringe on the wool liner!

My leafy linen bag, patched together from offcuts of my earliest eco-printing experiments on recycled linen shirts had worn through in several places again. Here it is in use in 2014 and being mended in 2014. The fading shows. Could I bear to let it go? Not yet. The new patches are all from one piece of dyed cloth that took up a lot of yellows.

Then there was the mighty flourbag shirt, which was mightily mended in 2015. The patches on the inside fronts had not been stitched to the seams in every single place, and now there are holes right where I missed that rather crucial step in mending a garment that has been worn this much. here are some of the holes and frayed parts…

And here are the mends seen from the inside and outside:

Sometimes when I mend people post asking why I bother. Which is a decent question. In a case like this raggedy shirt I think the only explanation can be that I love this shirt so much I don’t want to give it up. Even though I wear it for gardening and such (let me be clear, I love having time in the garden). the fact that I made it is part of it, but I make other things that I don’t love this way. I love the feel of the calico and I have come to enjoy patching it up. There are more places that have worn through where I am not going to bother at this stage–like where some layers of the collar have worn away but there are others still holding together.

And speaking of gardening, here are my gardening jeans. Another case of thinking you have patched out to where there is some fabric with integrity and finding that a hole wears through just beyond the patch. Never mind, just add on! These jeans are comfortable for grubbing around in, and although I have another pair that are beyond use in polite company, they are made from poor quality denim that won’t bear a whole lot of mending. They had a twin pair and I tried–but sometimes I can’t mend something back to wearable. How do you decide when to mend your mending and when to let it go?

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Some years ago, I made an apron at an India Flint workshop. It’s an ingenious design India has created which starts with a shirt with a collar and ends with a coverall with straps that cross over at the back. This model also has some stitched-on panels creating a generous length at the back.

I brought this garment home to dye it, and it would be fair to say that I never loved the outcome (friends who were consulted recently liked it more than I did). And, it had some large holes for which I was responsible and which I had a lot of [bad] feelings about having created. In short, this garment has been in the naughty corner (the place garments go to wait when I have been naughty) for some extended time. But then, India put up an online course called The Alchemist’s Apron. It is further supported by an online community of eager stitchers and dyers from all round the world on facebook. I was lucky enough to be gifted an enrolment (Thank you India!)–and this turned out to be the trigger for getting the apron out of the naughty corner and into my hands again.

First step, give it a wash and soften it up a bit (soy mordant no doubt was responsible for starching it a little). Second step, mending. Mending is an evening occupation for me, thus the mood lighting… I have learned some things about mending since these holes appeared and decided to use several different strategies.

Some mends went over the hem (they were the most discouraging). These round-ish mends I especially like.

Once that was done, a second pass through the soy mordanting process, a wander around my neighbourhood by bicycle collecting leaves, and a bundle up with home made string (hems and seams left from cutting up and recycling clothing, in this case).

I do love eucalyptus.

The mends still stand out but I think that is OK, because #visiblemending! I had chosen linen patching and cotton thread, which did rather guarantee they would stand out as the patches are mostly in the added border at the back of the apron which is cut from a recycled op shop raw silk pant suit a friend gave me.

I like the new apron much more!

And here is the back view… with the button placket still sporting buttons. It’s a bit glorious now, I think. Do you have things waiting in the naughty corner? How do they get there, and more importantly, what motivates you to get them out again?

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In our house, one of us likes to hang onto things as long as possible and mend them as needed. The other one is less enthusiastic about mending and naturally holds different opinions about which things are so special they should be mended rather than thrown away or repurposed. This towel had lots of pile left on it but the selvedges had given way and frayed. A lot. That was good enough for me! I happened to have some binding left over from a previous such project and it was just the right amount for the job. And now–no more frayed edges… and quite a pretty edge.

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So my gardening jeans are many years old and have long since passed out of being suitable for wear in polite company. But my jeans do tend to wear through in places that I don’t really want to draw attention to. They have reached the point where I’m at risk of the fabric suddenly and dramatically parting company. But these are comfortable and fit for purpose otherwise. And won’t be easier to mend if they do rip dramatically.

I kept thinking it might be time to let them go, but one night I decided against that. What to do? I made a paper pattern of the section I decided to try patching, so I could make the patch go all the way onto the seams. Then I cut patch pieces from the leg of another pair of jeans.

I now hold my grandmother’s pinking shears, so I decided to pink the edges of the patching.

I am a slacker so I pinned them on and then tacked by machine. I know that hand stitched patching can be a lovely thing, but I have tried it in this part of a pair of jeans and the stitching wore off on the outside! And, the less obtrusive the better. This is not a situation for the visible mending programme, though I am in favour of it, in general.

I did some early stitching to hold the patch in place and then stitched around the perimeter. This was followed by a lot of straight stitching up and back again in the most worn sections.

And–the finished item actually looks slightly better than the original did, with lots of machine stitching in grey–the colour that was the best match to the fabric at this stage in its decay. These jeans will never return to their prime and don’t need to look glorious. That’s probably part of why I was prepared to do an epic mend: I love a low stakes project.

And now, we see how that wears! They will be back in the garden on the weekend for sure.

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Because mending never stops… I have not restricted mine to May. This is a little light darning on some underwear. I know, this is pansy dyed green thread… but this top already has indigo dyed darning (top right) and lots of other mends in all kinds of colours… so when the pansy green took my fancy I didn’t resist.

This, on the other hand, is a pair of jeans. I love seeing people’s glorious sashiko style mending on jeans, but these people have the physique and luck to wear their jeans through on the knees. Not me. And, I think it would be an overstatement of my mending to call it sashiko as well as doing injustice to Japanese sewing traditions…

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This time, a little invitation to come and join me at a skill share where I will be teaching mending this weekend. The event is up on facebook for all comers and runs 11-3 at the Migration Museum in the city. There are lots of people involved including the famous (and fun) Costa Georgiadis from Gardening Australia. I’ll be teaching mending from 1.45-2.45 and there will also be an informal knitting circle. So much fun to be had. Bring your mending and join me if you fancy it… goodness knows I have more skills in mending than being a grandma, but I am proud to be counted among the grandmas of the world even for a day…

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I have a dear friend whose entire family are facing some very tough times. I’d been wondering what I could do that might bring some comfort to her, and then I had an idea. I knew she had a cardigan that had belonged to someone she treasured, and that it was showing signs of long wear and lots of love. So I offered to mend it for her. She chose some yarn and on some quiet nights last week I set to work.

Darning is always possible, but sometimes it seems barely adequate to the task, and the result is unlikely to be pleasing. I have darned holes bigger than this, but I did cover some of them with leather elbow patches afterward!

In the end I decided knitting in patches was a better idea. I used needle and yarn to stabilise runaway live stitches. Then I picked up some stitches, as you can see above.

In a couple of spots I darned first and then picked up stitches. See the woven section above the knitting needle? Then it is really a process of knitting along and purling back, knitting two together at each side with a patch-stitch and a picked up strand from the garment. There were some places where I added extra stitches or cast some off as I passed.

One sleeve got several patches. I tried different ways of casting off (binding off) and decided hand sewing the stitches down was the smoothest finish.

There were smaller places where I did small darns or just trapped live stitches so that ladders could not spread further.

On the cuffs, I considered a few options before settling on using some of the silk thread I dyed with Japanese indigo. The grey was pretty much perfect here and I was able to use a fine enough needle to stop the stitches that are unravelling going further.

There were four buttonholes but one button. I couldn’t match it, so I sewed on four that have come off some other garment.

Because a cardigan can be worn open, I concealed the ends of the stitching, with the initial knot and the tie off under the button rather than on the ‘wrong’ side, where I would happily tie them off on a shirt.

And here it is. Visibly mended but in a way I hope will mean this treasured cardigan will have an extended life providing comfort and warmth to my friend through times good and bad.

I know my friend is surrounded by the love and care of many friends and her family too. I’m lucky to be among them.